Stranger in the Corner of My Eye

Through the vast expanse of nothing, a single voice is heard and it says “I’ll see you soon enough.” The voice isn’t warm and welcoming like that of a friend looking forward to a reunion. The voice instead was dark and infected with malice and radiated an auspicious aura that was contagious and impossible to forbid from entering my very being. The voice sent chills down my body and before departing, the speaker said from its unknown location “Just wait and see.” With their final message, I opened my eyes and awoke from the dream.

Rubbing the sleep and the dreams of the past night out of my eyes and allowing the pictures that were in my head to be released into the realm of forgotten memories. The weariness of the night before still follows me as I take my breakfast of a cup of instant coffee with me onto the bus. The bus ride is like it always is but where I usually sit, an old man in tattered clothes covered in stains from spilled drinks, vomit, and what I hope is his own blood. The beard on his face is unkempt and dirty, ending at the middle of his chest. His hair was in the same condition. What was left of his face that was not covered by hair was dark and dirty from sitting in the sun. His eyes were facing right in front of him, looking at the wall of the bus, not blinking.

As the bus slows to a stop, I and the old man stand up to get off. In the rush that I’m in, I try to get off as quick as I could, so in taking long strides to the door of the bus, i accidentally brush against the old man’s shoulder that leaves its residue of the mysterious activities that the old man has taken part in.

“I’m sorry,” I say to the man, but looking into his eyes, I notice that his pupils are so open that there is next to nothing of the iris, leaving only black holes for him to see the world with. His face wrinkles in what I can only imagine to be anger and he opens his mouth to speak, but stops and simply spits on my shirt, leaving a dork brown stain that stands out from the white background of the fabric. Before I can say anything or react in any way, the man has rushed off the bus with speed that would not typically come from a man of his age or even from a professional athlete.

I get off the bus and walk the remainder of the way to my office building angry that the old man ruined my shirt but work pushes that thought out of my head and instead of anger for my ruined shirt, my head is filled with accounting information and formatting of reports.

The beginning of the working day was like it always is with the quiet drone of people trying to wake up and the bubbling of coffee makers in the background as we all start up our computers with the occasional file coming off of the printer. The work I do consumes my thought process entirely with nothing on my mind apart from the numbers on my spreadsheets. When I finally slow down for long enough to realise that it’s already 5:00 in the evening. I look up from my computer screen and see that most of my coworkers have left for the day and the janitorial staff has already started to come and clean up from the day.

I rub the day out from my eyes and when they open again, there is something that must have gotten caught in my left eye and I can’t seem to get it out. I try to blink it out but it remains in the corner of my eye. It takes a very small part of my field of vision and I can see perfectly fine with it there. I decide to go to the bathroom to see if I can wash it out but after 20 minutes of standing in front of the bathroom sink, it remains in its original place, unmoving.

I begin to think that this might be a matter best left to a professional’s expertise and I yield to the dark spot’s choice in location for the time being. I pack my things but by the time I finish, it’s already dark out and I’ve missed the bus that takes me to my house.

The wind outside is calm but cold, reaching into my clothes and taking all the warmth from my body. The sidewalk is empty apart from the light cast down from the street lamps. The spot in my eye still remains in its place in the corner of my eye, blocking what little is in my field of vision.

“I can almost see you now,” says a voice from behind me but when I look to see who it was, the only thing I see is a street lamp standing at its post. The voice seems oddly familiar but this vague recollection is not settling in the slightest. The voice had a high pitch to it that could cut glass and break the souls of anyone. It was strong in its quietness and with each word that was said it became stronger. This strength came into me but instead of adding to my own, it took mine away, leaving me with a sense of dread and fear.

“You’re just as I thought you would be,” says the voice again, this time it sends chills down my entire body, invading my very soul as it defiles every sacred though I have. I begin to run away from this unseen spectre and in attempts to evade it, I turn off at the closest possible spot but the safe haven I was hoping only led me to a dead end where there is no possible way out.

I must have eluded the voice and I wait there in the alleyway for what seemed to be hours and creeping to the street in front of me, I glance around the corner and see only the empty street and sidewalk that I had fled from. Relieved at my solitude, I started to make my way out of the alleyway but still taking caution, I walk with a quicker pace to get home quicker. The spot in the corner of my eye has disappeared and now my field of vision is restored to its fullness. As I was waiting, the clouds in the sky began to gather and pour rain onto the ground.

I hear the puddles grow with every drop of water that strikes the ground and the drone of the rain drives away every thought except the thought of getting home. The splashes are small and quiet but together, they are loud and with the thunder in the sky, it becomes difficult to hold onto even the very thought that is keeping me going. The puddles are growing faster and faster and the sound of the rain becomes deeper and louder but there comes a sound, not of a raindrop but of something much larger. I turn to see the source of the sound. The form of a black figure with no face greets me with its poisonous smile radiating from the void of its form.

Reviews

[ohmygiggles]

Quite mysterious, and intriguing. The story makes me want to know more.

I really like "The puddles are growing faster and faster and the sound of the rain becomes deeper and louder but there comes a sound, not of a raindrop but of something much larger.". I think it sounds poetic, almost song-like. Great choice of flow there. Personally, I would have made another paragraph after; dropped "I turn to see the source of the sound" (because it's implied when the narrator turns around" and then left it at the last sentence.

I think you excel in word choice, and you've chosen strong verbs to carry the story along. The only real area of improvement that I would recommend would be to watch out for redundant sentences. There are a few in the story, though if you brushed those up I really think you would have an even stronger piece.

Keep up the good work!!!

[EJ's Horror]

Woah, I like the descriptions and the portrait you've painted here.

"already 5:00 in the evening. I look up from my computer screen and see that most of my coworkers have left for the day and the janitorial staff has already started to come and clean up from the day" I was thinking maybe change on of those 'Day' (s) in there to give it more flow. I love the concept and honestly I'd hate to meet your old Man.